Curse It
by Shenzuul
Summary: An awkward post-mission situation involving booby traps, some swearing, uncomfortable proximity, and chemical reactions. Rating is a bit borderline T/M.


**Disclaimer:** Consider it disclaimed.

**A/N: **Not gonna lie. Kind of hate myself for writing this crap. *Sigh*…Whatever.

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><p>"Damn it," Maka hissed. In any other situation, Soul might have been surprised to hear his prim meister using foul language, but in this case he definitely understood her sentiment. He himself probably would have used something stronger. They had, after all, spent the last three days traipsing through knee-deep mud, fording swollen rivers, fighting their way through thick rainforest foliage, and being eaten alive by insanely huge jungle-inhabiting insects, all in an attempt to track an elusive pre-kishin that refused to stand up and fight them. They had finally caught up with the damned thing at its hideout a few hours ago and engaged it in a long, grueling battle that left them battered and exhausted, only to be caught in the pre-kishin's booby trap after they had at last defeated it. There was no justice in the universe.<p>

Soul wasn't sure _how_ they had triggered the trap. All he knew was that one moment, he had turned to face Maka to see if she was okay, and the next, he was slammed against her, some sort of weird, rubbery rope thing binding them together. They had tried to pull apart unsuccessfully; their search for a knot to untie proved fruitless. Soul's attempt to transform into a scythe only made things worse: the rope shrank to keep the partners bound, and Soul's blade had materialized dangerously close to Maka's face, biting into her cheek before she had jerked away. When Soul changed back, they found that the rope was less willing to expand than it was to contract, squeezing them even more tightly together than before, prompting Maka's use of the heartfelt expletive.

Apparently, said expletive made her feel better, because she banged her head against Soul's shoulder in frustration and repeated herself: "Damn." For good measure, she threw in a few more vulgar words that Soul hadn't realized were even in her vocabulary. He might have been impressed if he didn't have more pressing things to think about.

Namely, his abrupt, uncomfortable awareness of her chest being smashed against his.

Bloody hell. He'd always called her skinny and flat-chested, but she definitely didn't _feel_ like it when she was jammed up against him like this! Suddenly, the five layers of fabric between them (his unwilling mind automatically counted and ran through them—shirtjacketvestshirtbra) felt like far too little coverage. He felt every smooth contour in perfect detail; his skin imagined the feel of her soft flesh against his. His heartbeat began to quicken, and a bead of sweat trailed slowly down the back of his neck.

Damn it. Had they always been this size? How on earth had he missed it? Although, now that he thought about it, it was kind of hard to tell what she really looked like under her frumpy clothes…only her skirt really complemented her body—no, damn it, he _wasn't_ going to start thinking about this! He struggled to pull his straying mind onto a different, safer topic—like how the hell he was going to get out of this mess.

His chances of success were immediately crushed when Maka began to squirm. Her chest rubbed against Soul's in a way that set fire to his blood, scalding his veins as it rushed up to spread heat through his face and neck. "Maka, _what_ are you doing?" demanded Soul hoarsely.

"I'm _trying_," she snapped, "to get free. I can barely breathe! My chest is being crushed." Her growl of irritation reverberated against Soul's ribs.

"Yeah, I kinda noticed," Soul retorted. Something in his strained tone made Maka pause and look up. For a moment, she appeared to be confused by the pink tinge in Soul's cheeks and his expression of intense unease. Then her eyes widened as realization dawned, and a furious blush scorched her face.

"_Don't think about it!" _Maka snarled. She renewed her struggling with intensified, desperate vigor. Her heart was now hammering as rapidly as Soul's; he could feel its every beat.

Soul closed his eyes. "Maka. Stop," he ordered, voice tortured. "Now." Panting, she acquiesced, more due to the shortage of air in her squashed lungs than obedience.

"Maybe I could try to slip underneath the rope," Maka suggested desperately.

"_No!"_ snapped Soul, panicked. His traitorous mind conjured images of her body slithering down his, shirt riding up, chest and then face sliding over his lower regions…Oh _shit,_ now his mind had wandered down to a place he had _definitely_ not wanted it to go…notgoodnotgoodnotgood…

"Damn it," Maka growled, "I don't care if you end up chopping my arm off. Transform your arm into a scythe and cut us free."

"_I_ care," Soul retorted angrily. "I'm not transforming again."

"I order you!"

"No!"

"Just do it!" Maka shouted. She jerked her body ferociously. Unfortunately, the violent movement made Maka slip in the mire. Soul, suddenly supporting his weight and his meister's, lost his balance and tumbled forward, crashing down on top of her. His head jerked forward, and his nose wound up buried in Maka's neck. Maka let her head thump back on the muddy ground and groaned in defeat. "What now?" she asked bitterly. Soul made no effort to move or reply.

They lay quietly for a time, mud soaking into their clothes. The shrieking chatter of monkeys, the diverse calls of various birds, and the croaking of frogs surrounded them, but the background noise seemed distant, muted. At last, Maka broke the silence between the partners. "Soul, will you please move your head? I'm trying to think. It's distracting."

"_Distracting?"_ growled Soul against her neck. "You have no right to complain. It's _your_ fault we're in this mess. You ought to be punished."

"My fault?" demanded Maka. "How is this my fau—" Her words were cut off by a gasp as Soul caught her earlobe with his teeth and nibbled. "S-Soul!" she stammered, flushing scarlet. "W-what are you doing?"

"I'm being _distracting_, remember?" he whispered in her ear, breath hot against her skin. Maka's heartbeat, which had begun to calm, immediately jumped into overdrive beneath him. He smirked with satisfaction and took a moment to nuzzle the sensitive skin just behind her ear before planting a wet kiss there. Maka shivered, eliciting a dark chuckle from Soul. He moved his head down to the place where her neck met her shoulder and began to feather it with kisses. Her body shifted beneath him as she tried unsuccessfully to escape his attentions.

"Soul, stop," gasped Maka. "S-Soul…" Ignoring her weak protests, Soul dragged his lips to the base of her throat. The sound of her rapid breathing fell like music on his ears. Opening his mouth, he drew his tongue leisurely along her windpipe, sharp teeth brushing against her lightly. He sidetracked for a moment to press his mouth against her fluttering pulse, enjoying the throb of her jugular against his lips. Then he continued his journey up her neck, leaving a wet trail of saliva, a line of coldness on her hot skin.

Soul explored the line of her jaw next, nuzzling and licking. Each time he succeeded in surprising her, he was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath. Maka struggled feebly, unable to pull away. "Soul…you…you have to…" She seemed to be having trouble forming the words. Stubbornly, she tried again. "Soul, don't…"

Slowly, Soul pulled away. He stared down at Maka, ruby eyes intense. "You don't like it?"he asked silkily.

"I-I…" Maka found that she could not avert her eyes from Soul's burning gaze. Her blush deepened as she stumbled over her denial, unable to utter the lie while trapped beneath the fiery light of Soul's crimson stare.

A triumphant grin spread across Soul's face. "Then," he instructed huskily, "shut _up._" And to enforce the command, he crushed his mouth against Maka's.

She stiffened at first, caught by surprise in her stubborn innocence. But as Soul persisted, hungry and demanding but somehow gentle, her lips began to soften. Hesitantly, at first, she returned some of the pressure. Her heart hammered against Soul's. He deepened the kiss, and she responded, kissing back more assertively. Soul gave her some time to get used to the feel before flicking out his tongue and running it over her lips. Instinctively, she parted her mouth, giving Soul admittance. He slipped his tongue inside and tasted her, touching every surface possessively. Learning quickly, Maka slid her tongue along his until she was exploring his mouth in return. Soul moaned and felt a shiver run through Maka's body.

The rain began suddenly, drenching them thoroughly in a matter of moments. Soul ignored it, too wrapped up in Maka to care. He disregarded the sodden clothes that clung to his frame, the mud that coated his and Maka's skin, and the dripping hair that fell into his eyes. He breathed only when the pain in his lungs necessitated it. His hands moved up of their own accord to cup Maka's face; his thumbs rubbed her cheekbones. Maka's hands crept up to his shoulder blades and clenched fistfuls of his waterlogged jacket. Soul kissed her fiercely, his thirst for her growing rather than being satiated. The downpour continued relentlessly, drumming into his back, filling his ears with a ceaseless roar.

"Soul…" Maka tried to pull back, but Soul wasn't in the mood to let her go just yet. He recaptured her mouth, nibbling at her lower lip. "Soul…I…"

"Hush," Soul murmured against her lips.

"But…Soul…" He was trying to distract her, and she found it hard to resist. She moaned as Soul sucked at her lip. "Soul!" she gasped, breaking away briefly. "Our…hands…are free…"

Soul stubbornly held the kiss for another minute before reluctantly letting it end. Realizing that Maka was right, he pressed a forearm into the mud to take some of his weight off her. He looked down at their bonds. The weird substance that had made the ropes seemed to be dissolving in the rain. "So that's all it took, huh?" he commented.

"Guess so," Maka said. "So…um…you can let me up, now…"

Soul smirked at her. "No, don't think so," he purred. "I think I like having you in this position." His hand snaked under Maka's shirt and cupped her breast. "You've been holding out on me, haven't you? Can't call you Tiny Tits anymore."

"_Soul!"_ Maka choked. "Maka Chop!"

Even though she used the edge of her hand rather than the spine of a book, it hurt. But Soul burst into laughter and rolled off Maka, collapsing into the mud beside her. He slid an arm under her shoulders and pulled her close, tucking her into his side. Dirty, exhausted, wet, and content, the two lay on the ground, surrounded by the jungle, and waited for the storm to end.


End file.
